Tales of the Rotten
by Chris Magician
Summary: Think of every distasteful idea you've come up with. Every socially unacceptable concept, and every little snippet of material that made you cringe. That's what this story is made of. Come on...you know you're curious.
1. A Rotten Introduction

Everybody has some bad ideas.

It's a fact that comes with being a writer—sometimes your muse (or muses, as the case often is) is good to you, and you have these little nuggets of inspirations flying at you from every direction. Sometimes your muse is in such a swell mood that you can barely catch all the nuggets, and on rare occasions, you've even got to dodge a few of them; there are just that many.

After filing these nuggets away for a time, and allowing them to percolate, you eventually develop ideas for stories. Like the nuggets themselves, these stories are inspired, fun to read and write, and make the people who happen upon them feel better about themselves and the world they live in. Everyone, in short, comes out on top.

Now let's take a step back. Muses are a lot like the people they work for; moody, uncooperative, and above all, prone to writers' block. When a muse is feeling moody or uncooperative, then generally either clam up completely or come up with really stupid ideas that would have people laughing at you and pointing their fingers, saying, 'What was that dork thinking? I could write a better story than that with my brain turned off!"

We'll ignore these finger-pointers, since we're obviously much smarter than them. (No one could write with their brain turned off, although, looking back at early works, I sometimes think I did.) It's when your muse has writers' block that the real problems start to crop up. Almost as if your brain could get a clog, you begin to search so desperately for a good idea that you end up with some real stinkers instead. Ideas so foul and inane that you immediately throw them down the drain and pour acid on top, just to make sure that they never see the light of Fanfiction.Net.

At least...that's what _should _be done.

I've been on a somewhat extended stretch of writers' block as of late, so I've had a lot of time to develop stinkers. (Please...wait until after the opening to make comments.) But instead of dousing them with corrosive compounds as I should have, I tucked them away. Every little idea, every snippet of creativity that made me cringe, I filed into a safe hidden in the back of my gray matter. After I had enough, I opened the safe.

The result is the following story.

You may now feel free to make your comments.

MagicianXV


	2. A Rotten Flight

**Tales of the Rotten**

A Love Hina Fanfic by MagicianXV

It was a beautiful day in the little hot springs town of Hinata, and Keitaro couldn't think of anywhere he would rather have been.

Well...maybe a little closer to the ground, but that was wishful thinking.

Far below, Keitaro could make out the shape of his aunt's tea house and the stone stairway leading up to it. There was a cluster of tourists, no more than ants from his perspective, making their way toward the restaurant. Keitaro laughed and waved, then after a quick moment of speculation, he hocked a loogey at them. 

'Well', he thought, smiling happily as his saliva landed directly on its target, 'physics _is good for something. I knew there was a reason I memorized all of those wind-speed formulas." The tourists, now considerably less happy, shouted a few choice words and dashed into the tea house._

As he drifted past a cluster of wispy clouds, Keitaro inhaled deeply and took a moment to reflect on just how wonderful his life was.

He waited.

Another cloud drifted by.

He waited a little more.

It was at about this time that Keitaro came to the profound realization that his life _sucked. And not just normal suckage—oh no, this was industrial-strength, stainless steel reinforced, pressure-treated, diamond-tipped suckage with power windows and locks. In fact, he thought, scowling pensively and stroking his chin, it would be quite a surprise if anyone's life sucked more than his. There was only one redeeming aspect that he could think of, and that was the fact that he lived in an all-girls dormitory, where he was able to have lots and lots and lots of sex._

Wait...

No...no, he wasn't. That must have been someone else's life. In Keitaro's life, while he actually did live in an all-girls dormitory, he was constantly being pounded upon and launched through ceilings and walls. There was no sex at all. Phooey.

"Sex would improve things a bit," he murmured, still stroking his chin. A flock of geese that had been migrating south slowed to watch his descent. A mother goose saw all the stroking that was going on and decided this was no place for her babies, and promptly accelerated. "Yeah, it would _definitely_ improve things. Hmm...I wonder how I could have some sex?"

At this, the geese that had stayed behind collapsed into fits of honking laughter. Keitaro glared indignantly at them.

"Now cut that out," he protested, trying to look dignified as the wind tossed his hair around. "I know I'm not exactly a Don Juan, but there has to be _some way I could get a little action." _

One of the smarter geese thought very hard for a second. All at once, it had a tremendously good idea that would have enabled Keitaro to have all the sex he ever wanted, but for one small miscalculation—when geese collapse into fits of honking laughter, they have to stop flapping their wings. This is a very bad idea for birds. With the exception of some types of hawk, all birds have to flap continuously in order to stay aloft. The smart goose wasn't flapping, and before it could voice its tremendously good idea, the entire flock was smashed into a pasty mixture of feathers and beaks on the roof of a shrine.

"Sucks to be them," Keitaro commented. "It's a good thing I'm invincible, though, or that'd happen to me every time I hit a roof."

Just then, he did.


	3. A Rotten Conversation

**Tales of the Rotten**

A Love Hina Fanfic by MagicianXV

"Do you know what blows, Kitsune?" Naru asked, still trying to get herself cleaned up. Kitsune swallowed her mouthful of sake and considered the question.

"Yes," she determined. "But it's probably not the same thing you were thinking of." Naru wiped her shoulder with a soggy paper towel, tossed Kitsune an uncertain glance, the sighed grumpily.

"Jobs blow."

"You sure you haven't got that backwards?"

"I'm serious, jobs are a terrible thing. All of them. There is not a single good job to be had. Anywhere."

"Now that isn't true," Kitsune said, eyeing the small amount of alcohol remaining in her bottle with dismay. "There are people who get to do taste-testing for chocolate companies, that's a pretty good job."

"Yeah, but you're eating chocolate all day. You get fat. And besides, I'll bet those people are so sick of chocolate that they don't even enjoy it anymore."

"Not true. After you get fat from eating the chocolate, you get to go to hospitals and have new types of liposuction tested on you. That's lots of good money right there, and you never have to worry about dieting."

"What about the health risks from liposuction?" Naru inquired, pulling a stray tentacle from her damp hair. "People _die_ from that, you know."

"Only if you get a stupid doctor. And besides, if you're dead, there's no need to worry about going to work the next day. See how it evens out?" Kitsune beamed and gulped down the last of the sake, her cheeks flushing slightly as she did so. "Don't sweat it, Naru. You'll find a job you can live with, even if it's not at the squid-packing factory. Pretty girl like you? Piece of cake."

"I don't want to get hired because I'm _pretty_," Naru said hotly. "And what would you know about it, anyway? You've never held a job for more than a week." Kitsune grinned wanly.

"That's what you think. For your information, I've been gainfully employed for two months now. How do you think I've been able to afford the good stuff so regularly?" She waggled the empty bottle at Naru, turning even redder.

"You have?" Naru frowned. "Where?"

"A certain establishment downtown. I'll take you some night. Who knows? Maybe you'll find it's the right line of work for you too." Naru opened her mouth to respond, but broke off as an unusual sound became audible from behind them. Both girls turned to see Shirai, a friend of Keitaro's, approaching rapidly on a unicycle and holding down the button on an airhorn.

"The time has come!" he shouted gleefully, sending massive, deafening bleats out from the horn. "It's finally here! The gods smile upon Shirai on this day!"

"What the heck is he so happy about?" Naru asked, shouting to be heard over the ruckus. "Did he find some free porn or something?"

"Maybe he saw you groping Motoko in another alley," Kanako suggested, passing behind them.

There was a short silence.

"What?" Naru asked, spinning around, but Kanako was already gone. "Who said that?"

"You groped Motoko?" Kitsune repeated, blinking in amusement. "When was _this_? And why wasn't I invited? That's some prime blackmail footage I missed out on."

I never gr—what—blackmail footage?" She continued to sputter as Shirai rolled by again, letting out a second series of bleats and trumpets.

"My time has arrived! Joy to the world! Little Shirai has become a man!"

"I've got loads of blackmail footage," Kitsune said coolly, then paused. "Wait...did he just say that he's become a man?"

"M-maybe it isn't what it sounds like," Naru said faintly, turning pale.

"It is," said a gloomy voice. They turned to see Haitani, slumped against a street sign and drinking a beer. "He's been going on about it all morning."

"Then you mean—"

"I AM NO LONGER A VIRGIN!!!"

"Yep," Haitani muttered. "I can't believe he'd do this...he promised to love me forever..."

"I'm outta here," Kitsune shouted. She threw the sake bottle at Haitani, who didn't even feel it due to his advanced state of drunkness, and took off down the sidewalk with Naru hot on her heels. Shirai continued to announce to anyone who would listen that he had gotten laid until he was run over by a truck.


	4. A Rotten Idea

**Tales of the Rotten**

A Love Hina Fanfic by MagicianXV

Kanako had an idea, and it was a good one.

In fact, she thought, smiling to herself, it almost surpassed the word 'idea'. That was how good it was. There were prospects, first. A prospect was a niggling little worm of a thing, the sort that could potentially work its way into ones mind and hang about for a while until the next phase came tromping along. The next phase was actually more like two phases, and those were the phases of theories and hypotheses. Each of these took some time to work through, having their own brand of eccentricity to manage. Once that was done and tossed into the laundry hamper, she was able to get to the juicy stuff. 

Or something like that. It was difficult to keep it all straight in the state of extreme excitement she had currently managed to work herself into.

In any case, the final step in Kanako's unorthodox thought process, after prospects and theories and hypotheses, was to have an idea. And boy, did she have a whopper. It had come to her over a quiet breakfast that morning, during which she had been browsing through her newest issue of _Sullen Gothic-Vampire Chicks_, when she happened across an ad that seemed to have been tailor-made for her.

"LADIES!" the ad hollered in massive, bold-faced type, "Do you have problems with other women snatching your crushes? Is your beloved constantly being propelled into the lower stratosphere for no decent reason? Even if he's your adopted brother, this is your opportunity to seize back your man!"

Intrigued, Kanako had ignored the only _slightly_ suspicious nature of the ad and continued reading.

"With the new Slash-O-Max 5000, you can easily remove any and all of the other women in your life with the flick of one switch! How, you ask, is this possible? Through the miracle of an ancient technique that is only now becoming appreciated——evisceration!"

"Oh," Kanako murmured, allowing a tiny smile to creep over her lips. "I like that."

"Yes, evisceration has been around since the dark ages, but thanks to modern science, it's now possible to apply this grisly tactic to practical——and productive——uses! The Slash-O-Max 5000 is a fully autonomous robotic unit capable of seeking out the genetic signatures of any and all programmed targets, hunting them down, and disemboweling them in the most efficient and horrible way possible! Now ask yourself—is this something you can live without?"

"Definitely not," Kanako decided, rising from the table. She borrowed a few of Naru's credit cards (she wouldn't be needing them much longer anyhow) and hurried to the phone. She had just lifted the receiver from the cradle when that wonderful, incredible idea flew upon her like a brooding, gothic bat out of an equally gothic hell.

Kanako lowered the phone back onto its cradle. That ad had made an interesting point, and one that most people would easily miss.

Evisceration _had been around since the dark ages, and back then (when style was at its peak, she reminded herself), they hadn't needed DNA-seeking robots to carry out the task. They had either done it themselves, or turned to the far more interesting alternative._

Demons.

Kanako knew plenty about demons; she had one, a little black cat-demon that she had named Kuro. Her early attempts at devil-calling hadn't yielded much success, but her luck had changed after she managed to conjur up Kuro, having learned the secret during the process. Demons, it turned out, liked nothing better than a good old-fashioned sacrifice. A Kentucky Fried Chicken had sufficed for the cat-demon, but there were plenty of other options...

"It'll have to be a pretty tough demon, though," she murmured, twisting the ribbon laced through her black hair. "Motoko's clan is specially trained to battle demons. Although...if I were to use _that_ one..."

Having been endowed with little or no ethical sense, Kanako grinned cheerfully and dashed off to gather a few conjuring supplies. She would need her Conjuring Mat, which was embroidered with satanic symbols, as well as her copy of the Necronomicron. That still left the matter of a sacrifice, though, and where was she going to find a big enough one to summon this particular demon?

Surprisingly enough, the answer came in the form of Haitani, who stumbled across her path just then, quite drunk and moaning about how Shirai had never loved him. Sometimes things were just lucky like that.

Yes indeed...Kanako had an idea. 

And it was a _very good one._


	5. A Rotten Recap

**Tales of the Rotten**

A Love Hina Fanfic by MagicianXV

Keitaro scratched his head slowly, not certain what to make of the situation.

"Shirai's dead?" Naru and Kitsune nodded, looking grave. (Mostly Naru, though—Kitsune was far too intoxicated to be anything approaching grave.) Keitaro frowned and thought this over. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," Naru said. "He was riding a unicycle and got hit by a truck."

"What kind of truck?" Keitaro asked. "He could have survived that. Lots of people are okay after car accidents."

"Er..." Naru shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Kitsune, who winked and pretended to play with her nipples. "No, he wasn't okay. Well, yeah, he was okay after the trick hit him, but not afterward."

"Why? What happened afterward?"

"He got hit by a bus." Keitaro blinked a few times while he digested this new information.

"So he was all right after the truck, but...not after the bus?"

"Ah..." Naru scrunched her nose up thoughtfully. "I guess he was technically still okay after he got hit by the bus. He was able to honk his airhorn a few more times, anyway. But after that he was more or less toast."

"More or less?" Keitaro repeated. "Why? What happened then?"

"Um...this helicopter fell on top of him."

"What?!"

"Yeah...see, Kitsune wasn't really paying attention to Haitani, but she did notice a helicopter flying over us, and she kinda flashed the pilot." Keitaro looked at Kitsune with interest.

"You did?" he questioned. Kitsune nodded solemnly.

"Yeah. Like this." She showed him.

"Oh..." Keitaro also nodded. "Like that."

"No, not like _that," she said in disgust. "You've got it all wrong. It was like _this_." She showed him again._

"I gotcha now," Keitaro said firmly. "Like _that_."

"Right."

"So then the helicopter exploded," said Naru, who was beginning to feel a little left out of the conversation. "He was dead after that."

"You're sure?"

"Very." Keitaro lowered himself onto the sidewalk, looking a bit put-off.

"Man...I can't believe he's really gone. All through high school, it was him and Haitani and me, always together."

"That's pretty pathetic," Kitsune observed, after a short silence.

"Yes," Keitaro agreed. "Yes, it was. And the worst part is that the stinker owed me money. Leave it to him to find a way out of paying up. There's just one thing that bothers me about this, though."

"Only one?" inquired Naru. 

"Aside from the Being-Dead part, I mean. Why wasn't he watching where he was going? Shirai's been riding unicycles for ages, at all hours of the day and night, and in all kinds of weather. In his underwear, a lot of days. And sometimes naked."

He waited for some sympathy from the girls, but they were far too busy being horrified beyond speech.

"Anyway," he continued, "my point is that Shirai was a pro. How could he have not seen a truck coming?"

"Oh," Kitsune said, blushing and grinning widely. "I know. It's because I did this." She showed him.

"T...th..._that_?" Keitaro repeated, eyes bulging. Kitsune nodded proudly.

"Yup. That."


	6. A Rotten Hobby

**Tales of the Rotten**

A Love Hina Fanfic by MagicianXV

"Why do you always carry that thing around?"

Haruka looked up from her magazine. Kitsune, Naru, and Keitaro were seated together at a table toward the back of tea house. Keitaro was holding the mangled remains of an airhorn, which he was using to annoy Naru. 

"That whip," Kitsune said, indicating the leather coil at Haruka's side. "How come you're always carrying it around? You've only used it a couple of times." Haruka shrugged and closed her eyes.

"You never know when something like this will come in handy," she murmured, blowing a tendril of smoke out through her lips. "It has a lot of uses." Kitsune pushed her chair out from the table and walked over to Haruka, tilting her head to get a better look at the whip.

"What kind of uses? Like, lion-taming, you mean?" Haruka rolled her eyes and wondered just how drunk Kitsune was today. It was never a question of _if she was drunk; just _how_ drunk._

"Yes, Kitsune. Like lion-taming."

"Will you _stop doing that!" Naru shouted, as Keitaro honked the horn again. She lunged over the table, attempting to grab it from him, but he danced out of the way._

"I can't!" he exclaimed, grinning. "I'm paying my last respects to Shirai through this horn. Think of it as a tribute, okay?"

"No, it is _not okay!" Naru skidded and smashed into a wall, then rebounded toward Keitaro. "You're just doing it to bug me! Now cut it out!"_

In a single, fluid motion, Haruka had unslung the whip from her side and sent it snapping toward her nephew. Before either he or Naru realized what had happened, the horn was suddenly in Haruka's hand, and the whip coiled once again at her side. She glared at them, her eyes smoldering in the same fashion as her nearly-spent cigarette.

"You two are making a scene," she muttered, setting the horn under the counter. "It isn't becoming." The room was completely silent.

"That was COOL!" Kitsune exclaimed brightly. "Haruka, teach me how to do that, will you? I bet I could be even better at it than you!"

"I wouldn't count your chickens on that one," the older woman replied, then trailed off as the shop's front door swung open. To the disbelief of everyone, the person who stepped inside was none other than Kanako. She looked completely out of place in the tea house's comfortable, inviting atmosphere, but also seemed to be the only one who didn't realize it.

"Hey, Kanako," said Keitaro, failing to mask the surprise in his voice. He rubbed his wrist where Haruka's whip had struck him and approached his sister. "What brings you here?" Kanako looked at him adoringly for a moment, then cleared her throat.

"I was wondering if there was a blender I could borrow," she said. "I couldn't find one at Hinata House."

"What do you need a blender for?" Haruka asked blandly. She had a nagging suspicion that something was up.

"Haitani," Kanako answered promptly, then appeared to catch herself. "He's at Hinata House," she added. "I was going to make milkshakes. Out of ice cream, I mean."

"I didn't even know you liked ice cream," Naru said slowly. "And the kitchen back at the house _has a blender. Shinobu keeps it in the cabinet over the stove."_

"It wasn't big enough," Kanako said irritably. "I couldn't get him insi—that is...it wasn't big enough to hold all the ice cream." She glanced around the room, unable to avoid the wary stares coming from three directions. (Kitsune was also staring, but hers was more in the direction of outer space.) "We were very thirsty," she offered.

"I think I have an industrial-sized one you can use," Haruka said. She walked toward the tea house's storeroom, making a mental note to call the police and a good mental institution. "Make sure you clean it up after you're finished, all right?"

"Oh, I will," said Kanako, smiling nastily. The room went quiet as Haruka disappeared. Kanako turned toward Naru and her brother, glowering indiscreetly at the former. "How are you, Narusegawa?"

"I'm fine," said Naru. "You?"

"Excellent. It's been a memorable day so far."

"It sure has," Keitaro sighed. He cast a wistful glance at the counter where Shirai's airhorn lay.

"Hey, did you guys know that Haruka has a bong?" Kitsune asked, pulling a red plastic tube out from a small cupboard.

"HOLY CRAP!" Keitaro exclaimed intelligently. "When did she get _that_?"

"Who the heck cares?" Kitsune laughed. "She's got one, that's all that matters! But I wonder if..." She bent over, reaching into the cabinet a second time. "...YES!"

"What?" asked Naru. Kitsune stabbed her fist into the air, holding up a large plastic bag for them to see.

"Ladies and gentlemen, _we have weed!"_

"I'm getting out of here before this gets any more illegal," Keitaro decided, heading for the door.

"I'm with you," Naru agreed, and they both dashed out. Kitsune and Kanako watched them go.

"What a bunch of wussies," Kitsune observed. "You're not gonna leave too, are you, Kanako?" 

"Not without my blender," Kanako said. She peered at the bong curiously. "I've never used one of those," she said, lifting it from the counter and turning it over in her hands. "How does it work?"

"Oh, that's easy," Kitsune said happily. "You just——"

"Put it right back where you found it," said Haruka firmly, slamming a gigantic blender onto the countertop. Both girls jumped, then took a step back; the lasers shooting from Haruka's eyes could have lit a doobie. "And while you're doing that, forget you ever saw it in the first place. Understood?"

"Perfectly," said Kanako. She snatched the blender, tucked it under one arm, and hightailed it out the door. Haruka turned to Kitsune.

"What about you?" Kitsune wavered, still staring at the bong.

"Well...to be honest, it's been a while since I had a good smoke." Haruka's mouth dropped open, her cigarette dangling from one lip.

"_What...did you say?"_

"Just that I'd like to pass one around, if you can spare enough. I'll pay you for it, if that's the problem." The cigarette dropped and rolled under a table. Haruka's mouth closed, and she smiled slowly.

"Forget about it. Ever since Seta went on that dig last month, I haven't had anyone to split with." It was now Kitsune's turned to have her jaw drop. "But let's go in the back, all right? That's where I keep the good stuff."

"Wow!" Kitsune exclaimed. She followed Haruka, clutching the bong in one hand. "I had no idea you were so generous, Miss Urashima."

"Oh, I can be very generous. And I'll tell you what...after we're done, I'll even show you a few more tricks with my whip."

"Lion-taming tricks?"

"Hmm...let's just call them 'fox-taming' tricks."


	7. A Rotten Solution

**Tales of the Rotten**

A Love Hina Fanfic by MagicianXV

Shinbou's Cleaning Sense was tingling.

As far as she knew, Shinobu was the only person on Earth with a Cleaning Sense; it was a unique, nagging sensation at the back of her brain that told her a mess was about to form, and today it was stronger than it had ever been before. The only problem was, she had no idea what to do about it. Hinata House had been empty nearly all day, meaning that no one had been around to _make_ a mess. 

This meant one of two things.

The more favorable of the two was that her Cleaning Sense was wrong. That happened sometimes due to inclement weather, heavy cloud cover, passing satellites, or the Tampa Bay Devil Rays losing. (Taking the latter into account, the Sense had been wrong more often than usual.) When this was the case, Shinobu found the best solution was to take a long, quiet bath in the hot spring, then bake something.

The second possibility was that her Sense was spot-on, and that she was in for a night of heavy mopping. She had never gotten the feeling so strongly before, and it was really becoming a bit worrisome. It wasn't that she minded the cleaning, but she couldn't help fearing whatever might be the cause of such an epic mess. And around Hinata House, where Keitaro came crashing through the ceiling on a regular basis, there were very few things that couldn't happen.

Shinobu was curled in one of the bigger armchairs in the living room, worrying over these thoughts and wondering if it would be worth it to steal a few swallows of sake from Kitsune's room, when the front door opened. She braced herself for the cause of the impending mess, but instead, Su bounced in.

"Hiyas, Shinobu!" she called, smiling brightly. "Whatcha doing?"

"Nothing," Shinobu said, looking Su over discreetly. She certainly had enough energy to cause a mess...could she be the cause of the tingling? "I'm just waiting." Su eyed her curiously. 

"For what? Is something happening?" She looked quickly around the empty, silent room.

"Maybe. I can't tell for sure."

"Shinobu's being weird," Su whispered to Tama-chan, who had landed on her shoulder. "Maybe she isn't feeling good."

"Myuh?" the turtle offered. Su considered this, frowning thoughtfully.

"I guess so...Shinobu, Tama-chan wants to know if it's your time." Shinobu's face turned an incredibly bright shade of red, and she nearly fell out of her chair.

"W-_what? Do you m-mean--"_

"Nah, I don't think that's it," Su said quickly, paying no attention to the other girl's sputtering. "Could it be her diet? Is she not getting enough fresh fruits and veggies, and it's throwing off her metabolism?"

"Myu-myuh," suggested Tama-chan. Su snapped her fingers triumphantly.

"That must be it!" Su whirled around, facing the still-blushing Shinobu. "Miss Tama has figured it out!" she announced. "The lack of vitamins in your diet is making you desire the company of a man!" This statement caused a tidal wave of incomprehensible statements, all of which Su and Tama-chan ignored, to flood from Shinobu's mouth. "The only available man would be Keitaro, but he isn't here...what can we do instead, Tama-chan?"

"Myuh!" exclaimed the turtle gleefully.

"Of _course!" Su shouted, throwing her arms in the air. She leapt a foot off the ground, spun around three times, and landed an inch from Shinobu's face. "We know what to do, Shinobu!" _

"You...do?" asked Shinobu, who was far past embarrassed and confused, and rapidly approaching an entirely new level of social discomfort. Su nodded proudly.

"Yup! Instead of Keitaro, Shinobu can enjoy the company of Su!"

After her scream had ended, Shinobu decided to dub her new level of discomfort 'disemphoriated'. 

"NO!" she shrieked, leaping off the chair and scrambling for the stairs. "There's nothing wrong with me, Su! Leave me alone!" Su was hot on her heels, followed closely by Tama-chan.

"Don't be afraid, Shinobu!" Su cried happily, taking the steps on all fours. "Your body is just lonely! Su and Tama-chan will help you!"

"My body is FINE the way it is! It doesn't need any help from you, and _especially_ not from Tama-chan!" They reached the top of the staircase and skidded around the banister, all three shooting down the hallway at breakneck speed. A passerby might have compared Su and Tama-chan to a pair of foxes after a terrified, non-horny rabbit.

"Denying yourself won't solve anything! Su knows exactly what will make you feel better!" 

Su, summoning extra _chi from secret reserve inside herself, gave a flying leap and tackled Shinobu around the middle. The two girls went sprawling and ended up smashed against Kanako's door. Shinobu was winded and Su seized the opportunity—within seconds, she had pinned the older girl's wrists to the floor and seated herself over her stomach, rendering her completely immobile._

"There!" she said, quite satisfied. "Now Su will help Shinobu to satisfy her womanly urges, even if Shinobu won't admit them..."

"Let me go_!" Shinobu shouted, thrashing wildly back and forth. "Cut it...ah...stop that! Su! Stop that right...ah...oooh...."_

"............"

"........................"

"..................................."

Kanako opened her door and peeked out.  She looked down, and was surprised to see Su and Shinobu on the floor of the hallway. She blinked a few times when she realized what they were doing.

"Shouldn't you confine that to your own rooms?" she asked critically, frowning. "Or maybe a bathroom?"

"Nah," said Su dismissively, and continued to lather Shinobu's head with Herbal Essences shampoo.


	8. A Rotten Rendezvous

**Tales of the Rotten**

A Love Hina Fanfic by MagicianXV

For the fourth time since she had left the tea house, Kitsune tripped over something that wasn't there. It was truly remarkable, she reflected cheerily, how often this happened when you were stoned beyond all recognizable limits and boundaries. The tiniest crack in the sidewalk could suddenly rear up, gnash its concrete-molded teeth, and threaten to devour you alive if you stepped on it, so the obvious choice was to take a little bounce over to avoid certain death. The real question was, why couldn't Haruka grasp such a simple concept?

"See?" Kitsune demanded, jabbing her finger at the street. "That crack, right over...wait, it moved...okay, right _there_." She readjusted her arm and looked pointedly at Haruka, who had switched from marijuana back over to nice, legal nicotine. "See?"

"Kitsune, sweetie," said the older woman easily, draping an arm over her shoulder, "I like you. You're fun to share a bong with, you have a good sense of humor, you're _great in the sack...but you really have a lot to learn about the aftereffects of serious partying. Now just wait here and try get your head together, okay? I'm going to go get Motoko to carry you up the stairs."_

"I can walk up some dumb old _stairs," said Kitsune indignantly, and promptly tripped over one. "Actually," she murmured, from her new position on the cobblestones, "...on second thought, I'll wait. You go get Motoko, okay? She could carry me up. She is _really_ strong. Freakishly, I mean. So you go find her. Motoko, that is. Kay?"_

"I think I can handle it," Haruka replied. She started up the steps to Hinata House, pausing briefly to give Kitsune's sandy hair an affectionate pat, then vanished into the early-evening darkness. Kitsune sat around for a few moments, staring blissfully at the emerging stars. Life was something else when you were high...

After that, she didn't think much else for quite some time. That would be extremely boring to read about, and would involve a lot of descriptions of trees, ants, and a couple of horny raccoons, so we'll just skip over it and move along to Keitaro and Naru, who just happened to be approaching at that very moment.

"I didn't even know you could _do_ that in a photo booth," said Naru, shaking her head in disbelief and grinning a lot. Her face was flushed an adorable shade of pink, and her hair was considerably more disheveled than usual. Keitaro smiled a very, very smug variety of smile.

"I didn't just spend all that time taking pictures, you know," he said blithely. "You might even go so far as to call it 'mapping the terrain'."

"_Mapping?" Naru repeated, and laughed. "Let's just leave it the other way, all right? That sounded a lot better."_

"Yeah, I thought so. Anyone who happened to be passing by the booth while we were in there probably did too..." That earned him a whack, so he grinned and let it be. The two of them started up the stairs, so wrapped up in the wonderfully illicit behavior they had just concluded that neither noticed Kitsune until it was too late.

"Oh," said Kitsune, over whom Naru and Keitaro were now sprawled. "Where'd you guys come from?"

"That's a matter of perspective," Keitaro answered reflectively. "From _my perspective, I was usually at a kind of fifty-three degree angle. Naru's was a little different."_

"We did kind of hit the same angle at one point," Naru murmured. "You know...the sixty-nine degree one. That was a pretty good angle."

"Yeah...yeah, it sure was." They both lapsed into silence. Kitsune looked back and forth for a few seconds, trying to figure out what language they had been speaking.

"All right, I've got Motoko," came Haruka's voice. She emerged from the shadowy staircase, followed by the samurai. "Oh. Hello Keitaro, Naru. Where have you two been?"

"Out," said Naru squeakily.

"Doing stuff," Keitaro said. "You know. This and that."

"More of _that, actually," Naru added. Keitaro nodded. Haruka eyed them severely, then puffed her cigarette._

"Right...well, in any case, Kitsune needs some help getting to the house. She had too much to...er...drink."

"That is not the stench of alcohol," said Motoko suddenly. She seemed to slide forward, her legs barely moving. "I detect something fouler on the air...something unwholesome. Kitsune." 

"Uh?" Kitsune looked up at Motoko, blinking in a manner that was more bovine than foxy. "Whassup, Momo?"

"Lean closer to me. I need to smell your breath." Kitsune's eyes narrowed, and her face curled into a sleek grin.

"Oh..._sure you do, Motoko. Okay, whatever. I'll do what you say. 'Least __you don't have a whip." She threw a pointed look at Haruka. "Like _some_ people 'round here."  Motoko leaned forward, brow furrowed in concentration. Kitsune wavered slightly from side to side...then flung her arms around the other girl's neck, lunged, and——_

"WOW!" exclaimed Keitaro. "Holy flaming lord of the monkeys! Would you just LOOK at that!"

"It's like a train wreck," said Naru, who was feeling a bit weak at the knees. "I can't look away if I want to. And I really want to."

"I feel used," muttered Haruka, who was also unable avert her eyes.

"Hoo boy," Keitaro breathed, holding a tissue up to his nose. "Wowie. This is _not good for my blood pressure. Er...say, Naru?"_

"Yeah?"

"Let's go find another photo booth. Right now." Being a clever girl, Naru picked up the message easily enough and they were gone in seconds. Kitsune and Motoko, who had stopped struggling quite so much, might as well have been gone. All this resulted in Haruka being the only one to see the top level of Hinata House suddenly explode in a sparkling, dazzling display of flames and electric blue light.


	9. A Rotten Razing

**Tales of the Rotten**

A Love Hina Fanfic by MagicianXV

Mutsumi Otohime was having a rather nice day, aside from having had to dodge a truck, bus, and a falling helicopter some hours earlier. She had awoken rather late, and taken a long, warm bath in the hot spring. There had been the usual morning entertainment during which Keitaro, in his uniquely adorable fashion, had stumbled into the bath, tripped over Narusegawa, and subsequently been propelled over Hinata at mach three. Mutsumi never grew tired of seeing this.

"He's so graceful when he flies," she sighed, picturing the mind-numbingly cute expression of terror that Keitaro's face always wore after contact with Naru's fist. "Elegant and streamlined...the picture of poise and beauty."

She walked on for a while, swinging her bag happily and waving to some very friendly boys on the sidewalk who whistled and hooted as she passed. Everyone was so wonderful at this time of day, and especially when she wore her favorite shirt. It was the most comfortable thing she owned, and people were always so nice when she had it on.

"Mutsumi!" She drifted back to reality and looked around. "Mutsumi! Over here!" She turned and saw Seta trotting up, his van smoking quietly a dozen or so yards away, parked at an intersecting angle with a tree.

"Oh, Seta-san! How are you?" she asked, feeling quite overjoyed to see him. He smiled in a way that reminded her of Keitaro.

"I'm pretty good. Just had the _best_ crash a few minutes ago, it was really spectacular. Did you see it?"

"No," Mutsumi admitted, "I'm afraid not. Was it wonderful?"

"Absolutely! I must've racked up three hundred points on that one, what with the old ladies and that guy in the wheelchair. Then the cops, too, they were about fifty apiece." He paused for a moment. "Come to think of it, I must have almost four hundred points today after that helicopter I crashed earlier. The guy on the unicycle was probably worth around sixty."

"It sounds like you've had a very memorable day," said Mutsumi, beaming. "You're so talented, Seta-san!" Seta blushed at the compliment, while his van exploded cheerily. The shrapnel hit a gas main and that exploded too, taking roughly a city block with it.

"Nah, I'm just lucky." He raised his voice a bit to be heard over the shrieking pedestrians and secondary explosions the gas main had triggered. "And I have some experience under my belt. I'd say you're a lot more talented than I am, actually." Mutsumi blinked in surprise at the compliment.

"Me? However do you mean?" She stepped quickly to one side, allowing a flame-engulfed, yowling cat to run by.

"Well..." Seta scratched thoughtfully at his unshaven chin. "You're very smart, for one thing. You got into Tokyo University with a perfect score, that's something to be proud of." Mutsumi thought this over and nodded; in the distance, some fire trucks arrived to try and extinguish the devastating blaze. A backup gas line suddenly caught fire, and the resulting blast leveled the rest of Main Street. "And you have excellent taste."

"You really think so?" No one had ever paid her that particular comment before.

"Of course! That shirt, for example. It's so nice and airy, and when the firelight light hits it at just the right angle..."

"I suppose it does set off my eyes," Mutsumi said, flushing and fighting a terrible urge to giggle. The cat ran by again, this time tailed by some smoldering raccoons.

"And you've got such wonderful melons there, too," Seta added. "You always have the best melons around." Mutsumi opened the bag she had been swinging and had to admit he was right; she did have a good eye for picking out the best watermelons.

"They are very good, she agreed. "They were the biggest ones at the market." Incidentally, what was left of the market caught fire just about then.

"Oh, if they were mine, I sure wouldn't have sold them," Seta said gravely. "Melons like those? They're huge! And so firm, too."

"I also have lovely some cantaloupes," Mutsumi told him, pulling a couple out of the bag and holding them up for inspection. "See?"

"Oh..." Seta nodded enthusiastically. "That certainly is a fine pair of cantaloupes. I can't remember when I've seen better."

"Neither can I!" Mutsumi said happily. "See how big and round they are? And if you thump them, they've got just the right amount of echo."

"I always enjoy thumping," said Seta, still nodding. " And you're quite right, they are big. If I had a pair cantaloupes as nice as those at my disposal, I could thump all night long."

"I have lots of other fruit back at Hinata House," Mutsumi offered, putting the cantaloupes away. "Grapefruits, and coconuts, and some strawberries too. Would you like to see them?"

"Hm..." Seta thought it over. "Do you have any whipped cream? I don't usually like strawberries unless I have cream to go with them."

"Oh, absolutely," said Mutsumi, shouldering her melons and cantaloupes. "I always keep a few extra cans around for emergencies."

"Then in that case, I can't think of anything I'd like to see more," Seta replied earnestly, and they walked off together, illuminated by the moon and the flaming skyline of Tokyo.


	10. Congar the Gorilla: A Study in Rottennes...

**Congar**** the Gorilla: A Study in Rottenness**

A _Tales of the Rotten_ Special by Christopher Magician

Greetings and good day! I'd like to welcome all you fellow writers and readers of fanfiction to this very special chapter of _Tales of the Rotten_. Now, I'm aware that everyone who's been following this story so far (a big thanks to all of you for making it a success!) would expect a bit of rottenness involving the Love Hina cast, most likely wrapped with innuendo and packaged in the disturbing gelatinous substance usually found in a can of Spam. Seeing as this is a Love Hina fanfic that is a perfectly reasonable assumption. However, today I'll be taking a moment to appreciate a reader and reviewer who deserves some special recognition for his uniqueness. This sparkling individual's name is Congar the Gorilla.   
  
If you're like me, and take pleasure in reading over the reviews for stories you enjoyed, you may have noticed Congar's message to me. If not, and for the sake of clarity within this chapter, I will now relate to you his review in its entirety:   
  
"Christopher Magician SUCKS! SUCKS! SUCKS! SUCKS! SUCKS! SUCKS! And you really SUCK LIKE HELL you moronic shit of a human being, bloody shit ass from bloody ass hell, you suck, your fics suck everything suck! I HATE YOU MORONIC ASSHOLE FROM FUCKLAND! ROAR! I'm a MONSTER who is going to crush your tiny little balls you sick freaky shitty peice of shit!   
  
"I don't have e-mail, but if you hate me, write it on your review, SUCKER FROM BLOODY HELL ASSHOLE SHITLAND, FUCKLAND! ROAR! I'M CONGAR THE GORILLA, ROAR!"   
  
Obviously, Congar had some very profound issues with my work. On an equally obvious note, they were not favorable. Despite these facts, I'm an individual who tries to remain conscious of the fact that people do NOT have to read or review my work. They do it because they want to, and because they have either something nice or critical to tell me. Criticism is an extremely useful tool for an author; without it, I'd have no idea if my work sucked or not. Again, obviously, Congar thought it did.   
  
The problem with Congar's brand of criticism is that it's a bit difficult to locate the constructive parts of it. Since he can apply pressure to his keyboard, I can determine that he is aware of the alphabet, and that each letter represents a sound. Since these letters and their corresponding sounds form words, I'm able to surmise that he understands the English language. Good job, Congar! English is a tough language to learn, but you've clearly mastered its basics. For this, I praise you.   
  
Since we now know that Congar and speak and write, we can begin to examine his review and attempt to locate its meaning. Let's look over the first line:   
  
"Christopher Magician SUCKS! SUCKS! SUCKS! SUCKS! SUCKS! SUCKS!"  
  
Hmm. The first two words are my screen name—this was easy to figure out. The rest of the 'sentence', as it were, is composed of the word 'sucks' and an exclamation point. An exclamation is generally used to convey strong emotion, so we can be sure that Congar's conviction for this thought is a powerful one.   
  
Webster's defines the word 'suck' as, "To draw (liquid) into the mouth; to draw in, as by suction; to draw nourishment from with the mouth." Using this definition, we can now see that Congar is forcefully telling me either my mouth is open, and producing a force of inward suction, or that I am extremely well-nourished. Thanks for letting me know, Congar! My mouth is closed at the moment, but it's always nice to be aware of one's state of health!   
  
Let's have a look at the second line, shall we?   
  
"And you really SUCK LIKE HELL you moronic shit of a human being, bloody shit ass from bloody ass hell, you suck, your fics suck everything suck!"   
  
The first bit of this sentence is a little on confusing side. Congar is still set on convincing me that I'm healthy, but he is also connecting the word 'Hell' with the previous concept.   
  
Webster's defines 'Hell' as, "The place of punishment for the wicked after death." Since Hell is, by definition, a location, it can't easily apply an oral force of suction. However, there are geographic phenomena that can produce an upward draft, due to the path of air moving through formations of rock. Logically, we can see that Congar is envisioning Hell as a canyon of some sort, and one that produces a vertical breeze. Interesting, don't you agree? Congar has quite an imagination!   
  
Next in the sentence is the phrase, "you moronic shit of a human being", which does not look to be a happy comment. Webster's declined to provide a definition for 'shit', but Fanfiction.Net's capable dictionary was happy to offer the following:   
  
1) obscene terms for feces   
2) a ludicrously false statement   
3) a coarse term for defecation; "he took a shit" (obscene)   
5) insulting terms of address for people who are stupid or irritating or ridiculous   
6) something of little value; "it is not worth a damn";"not worth shucks   
7) a narcotic that is considered a hard drug; a highly addictive morphine derivative   
8) give away information about somebody; "He told on his classmate who had cheated on the exam   
9) have a bowel movement; "The dog had made in the flower beds"   
  
In addition, FFN's definition for 'moronic' is, "having a mental age of between eight and twelve years."   
  
Now that we have some information, we can use process of elimination to figure out what Congar's phrasing translates into. Since he is using the word 'shit' as an adjective, and in conjunction with 'moronic', the best choice is the fifth definition. Therefore, Congar thinks I am irritating, insulting, and posses the intellect of a person between the ages of eight and twelve. Congar sure comes up with some colorful descriptions, doesn't he?   
  
That leaves us with the second half of this sentence, "shit ass from bloody ass hell, you suck, your fics suck everything suck". Once again, let's check Fanfiction.Net's dictionary. There, we find that 'ass' is defined as:   
  
1) A quadruped of the genus Equs, smaller than the horse, and having a peculiarly harsh bray and long ears.   
2) A dull, heavy, stupid fellow; a dolt.   
  
and that 'bloody' means:   
  
1) Containing or resembling blood; of the nature of blood; as, bloody excretions; bloody sweat.   
2) Smeared or stained with blood; as, bloody hands; a bloody handkerchief.   
3) Given, or tending, to the shedding of blood; having a cruel, savage disposition; murderous; cruel   
4) Attended with, or involving, bloodshed; sanguinary; esp., marked by great slaughter or cruelty; as, a bloody battle.   
5) Infamous; contemptible; -- variously used for mere emphasis or as a low epithet. [Vulgar]   
  
Now, according to a recent IQ test I participated in, I'm not particularly stupid. I don't claim to be the next Einstein, but I don't usually drool on myself either. Therefore, we can rule out the first definition of 'ass', and since 'bloody' is an adjective in this case, the most likely definition is number three. Since we've already deciphered the other uncommon words in the sentence, it is now possible to see that I am (in Congar's enlightened opinion) an irritating but well-nourished donkey with a savage disposition, and that my fanfiction produces a steady oral intake of oxygen, as does everything else. Whew! That's a lot of suction going on!   
  
Now, the last few lines are intriguing, because they introduce some very exciting ideas.   
  
"I HATE YOU MORONIC ASSHOLE FROM FUCKLAND! ROAR! I'm a MONSTER who is going to crush your tiny little balls you sick freaky shitty peice of shit!"   
  
"I don't have e-mail, but if you hate me, write it on your review, SUCKER FROM BLOODY HELL ASSHOLE SHITLAND, FUCKLAND! ROAR! I'M CONGAR THE GORILLA, ROAR!"   
  
The terms 'fuckland' and 'shitland' were nowhere to be found in any dictionary I checked. ('Roar' is, incidentally, defined as a 'deep, loud sound'.) If we are to believe what Congar is saying, then there are two countries, Fuckland and Shitland, which modern geography has overlooked! Astounding! Furthermore, since Congar claims to be a monster, it isn't outside the realm of possibility that he himself is from these isolated, foreign lands! (This goes a long way in explaining his odd use of adjectives and sentence structure.) I'm sure that I'm not alone in my exhilaration at the prospect of establishing relations with two entirely new cultures, am I? I didn't think so!   
  
Congar goes on to proclaim that he is going to 'crush your (my) tiny little balls'. He seems to be operating under the misconception that I play organized sports, and since the aforementioned balls are tiny, I would guess he's talking about golf. Sorry, Congar, but I usually stick to biking and weight lifting, and I don't actually own any golf balls. He also thinks I am ill and abnormal. On some days I might agree with the latter, but I can assure all readers that my health is fine. Congar goes on to reiterate a few of his earlier statements, call me a piece of feces, and to ask for a reply to his message. No problem, Congar.   
  
Now that we've gotten through the bulk of the review, let's do one final, comprehensive translation before wrapping things up. Here we go:   
  
"Christopher Magician, you are extremely well-nourished! I feel very, very strongly about this! You produce an upward draft, such as Hell would if it were a canyon or other natural rock formation! You are irritating, insulting, and posses the intellect of a person between the ages of eight and twelve! You are an irritating but well-nourished donkey with a savage disposition, and your fanfiction produces a steady oral intake of oxygen, as does everything else! I hate you, you individual from my home country, Fuckland! Deep, loud sound! I am a monster who will crush the golf balls you employ in organized sports, you unhealthy, abnormal piece of excrement!   
  
"I do not have an email address, but if you loathe me as I loathe you, respond with a review, you taker of oral nourishment from irritating place of torment, Shitland, Fuckland! Deep, loud sound! I am Congar the Gorilla! Deep, loud sound!"   
  
So, there you have it, readers—thanks to a bit of research and hard work, we can all tell exactly what Congar meant. I sincerely hope that this has been an informative and entertaining exercise, and that all of you will come back once more for the next installment of _Tales of the Rotten. Peace!   
  
Christopher Magician_


	11. A Rotten Development

**Tales of the Rotten**

A Love Hina Fanfic by Christopher Magician

Kanako was quite unaware of the destruction of Hinata. Mutsumi's huge melons were nowhere within the scope of her thoughts, and she had no idea that Seta had been complimenting them rather guilelessly. Furthermore, she had no clue whatsoever that, at that exact moment, Keitaro and Naru were performing acts that would have been illegal in forty-nine of the fifty United States inside a broom closet at Tokyo University. All Kanako was aware of just then was that, dust and flaming debris aside, her plan seemed to be on the right track.

"H-" she paused to cough, and fanned aside some smoke "-hello? Is anyone there?" No one said anything, which made a little sense—Kuro had vacated the premises when he discovered what Kanako was up to, and Haitani hadn't been in a suitable condition to do anything except bubble for some time now. She stumbled forward, tripping over the charred remains of her possessions. Were _all high-level summoning spells so messy, she wondered? If so, she would be certain to perform the next one in Naru's room. Not that Naru would be an issue for much longer, she added with a smug grin. _

"Demonic presences?" she probed, squinting and trying to make out any other forms of life through the haze of smoke and dust. "Gargoyles? Imps? Gnomes?" 

There was nothing. She frowned; this was beginning to look dubious.

"Hello? Demon? _Anything_?" To her chagrin, there was still no response. Kanako kicked aside the wreckage of what had once been her futon, seething; it looked as though all she accomplished was to destroy her belongings, and she didn't even have a demon to show for it. She made her away across the room, keeping her eyes closed against the smoke as much as possible. After a few minutes she reached the mostly-intact staircase and started down it. However, she only made it a few steps when she bumped into another person. 

"Oh!" she exclaimed, and her eyes leapt open. The smog was far too thick so see clearly, but judging by the sinister, contorted face hovering in front of her, there was no doubt about it—the spell _had_ been a success. "It worked!" Kanko cried, her heart pounding with excitement. "This is spectacular!" 

Eager to get a better idea of her new minion's shape, she reached out and ran her hands over its frame. To her surprise, it wasn't the hulking, muscular creature she had anticipated. It didn't, she was also disappointed to find, even have wings. Rather, it was about her own size, and as she touched its chest, she was shocked to find that it was female.

"That can't be right," she muttered. "The incantation I used called for a male...otherwise it wouldn't have worked properly."

"Is that a fact?" inquired the demon, and Kanako suffered a second, and much nastier, shock. This particular demon spoke with a voice identical to her aunt Haruka's. It was in the split second following that Kanako suddenly understood exactly how Keitaro often felt, as she now realized she was groping her aunt's chest.

"Ah," said Kanako, pulling her hands back faster than she thought they could move. "Ah," she said again, although it didn't seem to be providing much help. "Hello there, Aunt Haruka."

Haruka stood wordlessly in front of her. Her teeth were tightly clenched, and one eye was twitching at intervals.

"This isn't what it looks like," Kanako blurted. "I didn't do this. I—er—it was the wiring! All those faulty wires, you know. Hinata is such an old house, there were bound to be some exposed circuits, and—

"Save it," snapped her aunt. "What did you say about demons?"  
"Oh, that?" Kanko attempted to laugh airily, but it was such a disaster that she quickly abandoned it. "I was trying to summon a demon," she admitted.

"Why?"

"No particular reason," she murmured, shifting her gaze to an especially interesting patch of burned floor. Haruka cleared her throat and took an unlit cigarette from her pocket.

"See the cancer stick?" she inquired. Kanako nodded slowly. "If you do not begin to spill every last ounce of your guts in the next three seconds, I will do the equivalent of this—" she snapped the cigarette in half, sending a cloud of dried tobacco into the air "—to you. Understood?"

"Understood," said Kanako, wondering when her aunt had acquired such a pronounced mean streak, and if she could mail-order one for herself.

"Good," said the older woman. "Now talk."

Kanako talked. She told Haruka about the ad in her magazine, about needing a sacrifice and conveniently finding Haitani wandering about ("Keep the blender," said Haruka, turning a little pale), and about the incantations she had used from her copy of the Necronomicron. For the sake of self-preservation, however, she omitted exactly what, or rather _whom_, she had been intending to use the demon on. Her aunt listened silently, frowning all the while. When Kanako was done recanting, she gave a heavy sigh, stuck two cigarettes in her mouth, and lit them both simultaneously.

"Well, this is a fine mess you've gotten us into," she grumbled, puffing away. "In case you hadn't realized, Hinata House isn't exactly a normal place. Working any kind of magic here is risky at the very best, and something like demon-summoning is just plain begging for trouble."

This was the first Kanako had heard about it, and she stared rather foolishly at her aunt before managing to ask, "What do you mean?" Haruka rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"I _mean," she said impatiently, ignoring the ashes falling as she spoke, "that this house has powerful magic built right into its foundation. That's why the annex works like it does, and that's why trying to summon a demon inside the _main_ part of the house makes you a first-class idiot. Whatever you were trying to summon, you undoubtedly got something a lot worse, a lot stronger, and unless we get rid of it fast, there's going to be a lot of problems with your name on them."_

"My name?" Kanako asked, gulping. She was feeling decidedly meek, which was not a sensation she was accustomed to. Rage was fine, and blistering jealousy she could deal with. Meek was an entirely different story. Haruka, on the other hand, didn't appear to care a lick what sort of emotions her niece was dealing with and began shuffling through the wreckage scattered on the floor around her.

"Come on," she said sharply. "We've got to find the incantation you used or we haven't got a chance of banishing whatever stupid monstrosity you've called up. I don't feel like facing the minions of the underworld, myself."

"But that sounds like _fun!" Kanako protested. Haruka gave her a glare that would wither a cactus; Kanako started looking for the spell._


	12. A Rotten Constitutional

**Tales of the Rotten**

A Love Hina Fanfic by Christopher Magician

After running for a considerable amount of time, possibly even three or four minutes, Naru and Keitaro came to a panting halt in front of a small row of shops just outside of Hinata's main shopping area. There was a peculiar, but not unpleasant yellow-red glow flickering on the horizon, and Keitaro thought it would make a very nice backdrop for another expedition into the many creative uses for a photo booth. Naru kept casting anxious glances in the direction of Hinata House, as if she expected Kitsune to leap out and tackle her, but nothing of the sort happened.

"What do you think was going on back there?" she asked, not noticing that Keitaro was paging through a small handbook entitled _Photo Booth Locations for the Resourceful Ronin_. "Kitsune was acting pretty strangely, don't you think?"  
  


"Not so much, considering it was Kitsune," he replied easily and turned from side to side, searching for a street sign. "Where are we?"

"Um...Kanagari Lane, I think," she said. "Why?"

"No reason," Keitaro murmured, happily dog-earring a page in the book. "Come on, let's go over this way." They walked along for a bit, bathed in the flickering reddish light. Naru was still turning over various confused thoughts about Kitsune, but it suddenly grew very difficult to concentrate on such things when she spotted the photo booth Keitaro was obviously headed for.

"Oh..." she said, and raised an impressed eyebrow. "That was quick. You have experience with this or something?"

"Please," Keitaro drawled, waving a dismissive hand in the air. "Do you _really think it would have taken me four tries to pass the Tokyo University entrance exam if I'd actually been studying the entire time?" She considered this while Keitaro expertly steered her forward. _

They reached the booth, and Keitaro had just started to pull back the curtain when—quite unexpectedly—the entire thing fell over. Both of them leapt back and stared in complete, slack-jawed surprise as Seta clambered out.

"Well now!" he exclaimed, blinking a few times and grinning like a man with a can of whipped cream in one hand, which he was. "I thought these things were bolted down! Guess that's something to keep in mind, eh?"

"Oh my, oh my," said a soft voice from inside the booth, and the jaws of Keitaro and Naru descended even further toward the ground. Mutsumi, with some help from Seta, stepped from the collapsed booth and brushed herself off. "Just when it was getting interesting, too. How sad."

"Ah well," Seta shrugged, and ate a mouthful of whipped cream straight from the aerosol can. "You're all right though, aren't you? Melons still in good shape?"

"Yes...they seem to be just fine," Mutsumi told him brightly, retrieving her string bag from the debris. "I'm so glad they aren't bruised or dented!"

"That makes two of us," Seta said, nodding, and they laughed in unison. As they did, Seta apparently noticed Keitaro for the first time. "Hey, part-timer!" he called jovially. "What brings you out here?"

"Nothing you wouldn't already be familiar with, from the look of things," said Keitaro, sounding rather put-off. Mutsumi smiled and waved to him while Seta laid an arm over her shoulders.

"You can say that again!" He gave them a roguish wink and spun the cream can expertly on one fingertip. "Incidentally, did you know that Mutsumi has the best melons in Hinata?"

"We'll be going now," Naru interrupted, not liking the start of Keitaro's reply. She dragged him off toward the shops they had passed earlier, wondering if the world had gone nuts or if it was just her. Either one seemed equally likely, so she dismissed it as nonsense.

"Well, at least _someone got to use the photo booth," Keitaro mused optimistically. "Where should we go instead?" He looked around, then pointed to one of the shops. "How about there?" Naru looked; it was a small pet store with a display of tropical fish in the window._

"Seems safe enough," she said, nodding. "But if Kitsune pops out from someplace and glomps me, you've had it."

"I can live with that," said Keitaro, and they trotted across the parking lot and through the front door of the shop. It was empty, save for an extremely old woman perusing the rabbit-food isle and a clerk reading some hentai. He gave them a bored nod as they walked by, then turned his magazine sideways to get a better view of the contents. Keitaro quickly earned himself a smack upside the head by trying to assist.

"This is a nice little place," Naru said, smiling as she leaned over to pet a gray gerbil in a glass tank. "Maybe we should get another pet for the dormitory. What do you think, Keitaro?" 

Keitaro looked around the store pensively, then exclaimed, "Pussy!" The clerk gave an approving hoot and waved around his hentai, while Naru choked and squeezed the gerbil so tightly that it squeaked in protest.

"_What?" she managed, staring at him. Keitaro gazed at her in bewilderment._

"Oh," he said, seeing her shocked expression. "Puss_ies_, I mean. Over there, see?" She looked, and her eyes came to rest on a cage full of white kittens playing with scraps of carpet. "Cute, aren't they?" he added, smiling broadly.

"Very," Naru breathed, wondering if she would be justified in sending him through the roof. "Can we please just call them 'cats' from now on?"

"Sure, I guess. Why?"

"Just humor me," she muttered. Keitaro shrugged and scratched one of the kittens between the ears. 

Naru had just turned back to the gerbil when, without an ounce of warning, Keitaro said, "Hey, look at the cock!" She sputtered intelligently a whirled around, this time quite sure no jury in the world would convict her for inflicting some pain. What stopped her from reaching him was the rooster dawdling benignly past.

"What...?" she gaped, her eyebrows doing funny things as she watched the bird go by.

"Yeah, I know!" Keitaro agreed. "How many pet shops sell actual chickens? And cocks, to boot!"

"I...have no idea," said Naru truthfully, wishing very much that she could, just for a second, get a grasp on what was happening. "Er..." she added, "what if we just call him a chicken, okay?"

"Okay," Keitaro said, frowning. "You're weird about animal names." Naru forced a laugh that she hoped was endearing and agreed that she was very weird about animal names, then dashed to the other side of the store, where there was a wall of very safe aquariums full of snakes and frogs. She looked at these for a while, realizing more and more that she didn't like snakes at all, when someone called her name.

"Naru!" the person called again, and she turned to see Shinobu and Su hurrying up, both holding plastic shopping bags. 

"Hey!" Naru said, surprised but pleased to see at least one certifiably sane person. "What are you two doing in here?"

"We were at the grocery store," Shinobu explained, indicating her bags. "Su wanted to stop in here on the way back."

"What for?" Naru inquired, turning to Su.

"I wanted to see that guy up front spank his monkey!" Su explained. "He does it every day, right about now."

Naru felt the world spin underneath her, and thought it would save a lot of trouble if she could just fall off of it. Neither of the younger girls seemed to notice her teetering; Su was pointing toward the hentai-reading clerk, who was carrying his magazine (now rolled-up) in one hand, and leading a large, surly-looking gorilla out from a back room.

"I asked him about it once," Su was saying, "and he told me that an animal psychiatrist thought that it lacked discipline. Now he spanks it every day to keep it in line." Indeed, the gorilla was receiving a firm spanking, although it didn't appear terribly pleased.

"Does it have a name?" Shinobu asked, also ignoring Naru.

"Yeah, I think he calls it Congar, or something stupid like that," Su answered. Shinobu gave an indiscriminate 'hmm' in reply, and they quieted down to watch Congar the gorilla being spanked with a pornographic magazine.

"Did you know about this?" asked Keitaro. Naru hadn't realized he was standing beside her, and jolted in surprise. "This doesn't quite seem like normal pet shop...er...etiquette, if you know what I'm saying."

"I couldn't _avoid knowing what you're saying if only spoke foreign languages," Naru told him, deciding that she preferred looking at the snakes over the alternative. "Can we get out of here? I'm sure Congar could use a few beatings, but I don't want to be around for them."_

"I can certainly understand that," Keitaro said sympathetically, and all four of them left the store in a group. Shinobu announced that she and Su were on their way back to Hinata House, so Naru and Keitaro decided to come along; hopefully Kitsune had gotten good and drunk, and whatever had been wrong with her before was suppressed by plenty of alcohol.

"What have you two been doing today, anyway?" Naru questioned. Shinobu and Su exchanged peculiar little glances at one another, and Shinobu grasped the handles on her shopping bag more tightly.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," she said, in a way that suggested they had been up to things that were as far out of the ordinary as was possible on a given day. Su said nothing; she simply grinned a huge grin and swung her own bag over her head for a few moments. 

They walked on in silence for most of the trip to the house, save for the crinkling of plastic Su's bag made from time to time when she peeked inside, shuffled the contents around, then laughed very loudly. Naru noticed that Shinobu, for a reason only she seemed aware of, turned very red whenever Su did this. Keitaro paid none of them any attention, instead whistling carelessly and perusing his book of photo booth locations. They carried on in the same pattern until they had reached the front door to Hinata House, at which point Su stopped abruptly, stepped in front of Shinobu, and spun around to face Naru and Keitaro.

"We're going bye-bye for now!" she said brightly, beaming. "Su's going to make Shinobu a sundae!"

"Hey, that sounds good," said Keitaro. "What kind of ice cream are you using?"

"No ice cream!" Su replied, and with a single smooth motion, she spun back around, scooped Shinobu up, and draped her over one shoulder. "Let's go, sundae!" she hollered, and dashed inside.

There was a very, very long silence.

 "Where," Naru demanded, "has the top of our house gone?"


	13. A Rotten Arrival

**Tales of the Rotten**

A Love Hina Fanfic by Christopher Magician

Somebody was doing strange things in a place that he shouldn't have been doing them.

In fact, most of Tokyo had become the kind of place that most people would avoid doing things. Large portions of the city had been entirely reduced to rubble, thanks to the thunderous explosions started by Seta's delinquent van. The areas that weren't completely gone were smoldering nicely, and whenever the exhausted, heroically selfless firefighters managed to extinguish a building or two, Tokyo would thank them by detonating a few more gas lines. Firefighters needed to be kept busy, after all.

While this was going on, the city's population was engaged in one of three activities. The most common of these was fleeing for their lives. This worked out nicely because they were also able to scream incoherently as they were doing it, granting the firefighters some enjoyably unpredictable harmonies to listen to while they struggled with the flames. The second activity was looting. Looting, although an activity refined and made famous Americans, was equally lucrative in Japan. Hordes of opportunistically-minded individuals turned out to sack, pillage, and generally overrun what had once been Tokyo's profitable downtown shopping districts. Like those who had chosen to flee, the looters also had some songs to share with anyone who would listen. However, since these were people whose brains had been affected by the vapors they were inhaling (burning electronics could induce a very unique type of euphoria), none of the lyrics will be reproduced here. Finally, there was the small number of citizens who had chosen to dress in lobster costumes and throw balloons filled with flammable liquid at one another, then jump into the flaming buildings. 

No one was entirely sure what they were thinking, but at least they were out of the way.

A few miles removed from the main areas of destruction, a lone person was standing on a rooftop. The building he had chosen as his perch was, strangely enough, untouched; the surrounding structures were little more than blackened cinders, but the lone high-rise remained completely intact. This person was the one doing the strange things, and the top of a high-rise was certainly not the kind of place he should have been doing them. His attitude was careless and aloof; he observed the annihilation of Tokyo with casual glances, as if it were a pigeon walking by and not one of the planet's most revered cities being incinerated. He acted almost entertained, and when coupled with the other things he was up to, it all reached the point of being decidedly disrespectful.

For starters, he was humming.

That wasn't so bad in itself, but the fact that he was using the explosions of electrical transformers and propane tanks to keep himself in time was. He would pick out a few notes seemingly at random and make a little tune out of them. When he heard any significant blast, he would carry over the melody and change it smoothly into some new notes, then repeat it all again.

As if his humming weren't bad enough, he was dancing too.

Anyone could have easily told that he was making it up. While his song did have a rhyme and reason, his dance was a random, swaying gyration that he was clearly making up on the spot. He balanced on one foot for a while, spun around with his arms swinging out to either side, then balanced on the other foot. When he got tired of doing that, he turned some back-flips across the rooftop. He stuck the landing nicely, and got perfect tens from the judges.

No one was sure why the judges were there, but they were also out of the way.

He ignored the judges and continued to hum and dance, and Tokyo continued to burn. Something in Akibahara launched skyward with a fantastic _crack!,_ and he stopped dancing long enough to watch it fly into a gas tanker. It ignited instantly, drenching everything around it with liquid fire—he clapped his hands gleefully, grinning as the light reflected in his eyes. He was having a wonderful time.

...But...he did feel a little strange. There was a nagging sensation at the back of his mind that made him think he was forgetting something. That didn't make much sense, since he had only just arrived, but the more he thought about it the more he thought that he was supposed to be someplace else. He crossed his arms over his chest and thought hard; the folds of his coat (a glorious, deep red satin) crinkled and gleamed quietly.

He snapped his fingers.

"That was it!" he exclaimed, and leapt a hundred feet into the air. His coat streamed out behind him like banner, then billowed as he came to a sudden halt. He smiled broadly and began to scan what was left of Tokyo.

"I know what it was now," he said eagerly. He began to rotate slowly in the air, still searching the city below. On the back of his coat, a dragon was intricately embroidered in gold thread.

"I know what I was supposed to do!" There was no one listening, but he said it anyway.

"I was supposed to find Naru Narusegawa," announced the demon, "and kill her!"


	14. A Rotten Talent

**Tales of the Rotten**

A Love Hina Fanfic by Christopher Magician

Seta was very, very happy.

This wasn't unusual, since he wasn't an unhappy person by nature—quite the opposite, really. On many occasions he had been told that he was irritatingly optimistic, and would he _please_ stop being so stinking cheerful about everything. Since it was a difficult request to grant, he would usually try to explain to the other person the various reasons why he was so pleased with life. Things like a blue sky, singing birds, or what a charming shade of red people could turn when they were upset. Conversations in that vein often ended with a shovel being used in bad ways.

Now, however, he was even happier than usual. The day was blissfully warm, for one thing. Seta suspected it had something to do with the fact that most of Tokyo was on fire, but he wasn't in any state of mind to be concerned about it. Instead, he concentrated on the task at hand.

"I think..." he said slowly, "I'll take start with this." Mutsumi, who was stretched out beside him, smiled contentedly.

"That's a very good choice," she said, her voice low and comfortable. Seta reached out, and a moment later was quite busy. There was certainly a lot to do, and he wasn't entirely sure he was up to the task. In his younger days he was positive that there would have been no problem whatsoever, but even he couldn't deny that he was getting on in years. Not really _old_, but there was no escaping the passage of time.

"How's this?" he tried to ask, but his voice was muffled. Mutsumi laughed breathily and ran her fingers through his hair. 

"You're doing wonderfully," she assured him. "Keep going! I want to see what you're really capable of!" Bolstered by her encouragement, Seta went back for more. He started keeping score in his head, although it was hard to concentrate on two things at once. He got so involved with what he was doing that, before he knew it, he was done. The surprise left him reeling for a moment.

"Get another one!" Mutsumi urged. She sounded very eager. "Quick!" Seta tossed the used one away and grabbed a second from Mutsumi's bag. He unwrapped it quickly, fumbling in his rush.

"I'll go even faster this time," he told her excitedly. "Just you watch!" Mutsumi said that she liked to watch, and Seta got going; indeed, he certainly was faster now that he was warmed up. A few people who had been walking by even paused to stop and look; it was a very impressive sight.

"Faster!" Mutsumi cried, when Seta finished for the second time. "Don't stop!" Barely pausing for breath, he threw the second one away and grabbed a third. This time he went faster still—he was actually impressing himself by this point. 

A substantial crowd had begun to gather, and they were all staring on with rapt, wide-eyed attention as Seta went even faster. He wasn't sure how much longer he could last, but he was going to satisfy Mutsumi or die trying. Several people began to murmur to each other in disbelief, but Seta did his best to ignore them. No use in getting distracted!

Finally, after eight trips back to Mutsumi's bag, he could go no longer. He collapsed, gasping for breath, his face and clothes damp. For a moment he just lay there, chest heaving. Then Mutsumi sat up, shaking her head in an astonished daze.

"I can't believe it," she said, laughing. Seta said nothing; he was still trying to get some his heart to slow down. Mutsumi reached over and picked up the pile of rinds and discarded cellophane. "I have never seen _anyone_ eat so much watermelon so quickly in my entire life!"


	15. A Rotten Resumption

**Tales of the Rotten**

A Love Hina Fanfic by Christopher Magician

Thirty-nine monkeys had spontaneously emerged into existence. Or rather, they had popped into existence, leaping rather suddenly from beneath a manhole cover in the middle of a crowded Tokyo street.

This, as one would expect, caused a considerable amount of panic and confusion as the monkeys began to screech high-pitched protests against oncoming traffic, bewildered pedestrians, and anything else that strayed into their enraged field of vision. Their squeals were quickly augmented by the enthusiastic throwing of fecal matter at convenient targets, which escalated the entire situation from being a considerable nuisance to a downright environmental hazard.

In the midst of this, as monkeys hurled themselves with eager, furious vigor at windows and terrified victims, someone strolled casually along the sidewalk. His gait was swift, but not hurried, and he periodically paused to examine either a shop window or pick up the odd discarded coin from the concrete.

The monkeys ignored him for the most part, having occupied themselves completely with spreading their excrement on any available surface. A few of them had discovered the considerable joys of finger-painting, and were hastening to leave their artistic mark upon the world; this was not immediately recognizable as a case of life influencing art, or vice-versa, but the monkeys seemed not to notice or care. Those who were not involved with furthering the state of modern art continued to wreak sharp-toothed pandemonium—they pulled hair, stole purses, and in the case of an ambitious few, broke into bars and began to ingest alcohol with fervor.

The inhabitants of Tokyo were mostly ignorant of the trouble drunken monkeys could cause, but they would soon receive a profound and memorable education.

And still, the lone pedestrian continued to wander past the growing wreckage and multi-car pileups. His coat fluttered lightly in the warmth of dozens of small fires, the red silk reflecting the light magnificently. On the back of the coat was an elaborately embroidered dragon, and this also shone marvelously as Tokyo burned.

He paused, and furrowed his brow.

Wasn't there something he was supposed to be doing? He felt as though he had remembered it, and then forgotten again in all the merriment.

Something important. Vital even. Imperative.

"Boom!" he shouted without warning, as momentary epiphany struck like a thunderbolt. He thrust one hand out to the side, and flung a sphere of blistering, white-hot energy into a nearby skyscraper; the entire foundation of the building gave way in a split second, and the structure collapsed like a house of cards in a breeze.

"I gotcha," said the demon happily. He nodded, but his smiled faded almost as quickly as it had come.

Knocking over buildings was fun, but it wasn't the right. His actual job had been on a much smaller scale, but it had also been vastly more significant. He pondered this until a wild-eyed woman, covered in dust, soot, and simian excrement, smashed into him, wailing.

"Help me!" she begged, throwing panicked looks over her shoulder; six monkeys—all thoroughly intoxicated—we making a speedy, if unsteady advance. "Those—those _monkeys_!"

"Cute, aren't they?" said the demon cheerily. "I love monkeys, don't you?"

"No!" the woman shrieked.

"Really?" the demon said, surprised. "Well…I guess maybe they could be better." He glanced around the intersection for inspiration, where a half dozen cards billowed with industrious flames. "How about if they were burning?"

Instantly, the monkeys transformed from a pack of angry, inebriated primates into a pack of angry, inebriated primates consumed by searing blue jets of fire. This, unexpectedly, did little to slow their charge; they gave interested looks at one another, considered the circumstances, and continued the gleeful rampage with renewed vigor. Their gnarled paws left charred, melted pits in the street as they ran, and when a particularly acrobatic member of the pack attempted to swing from a street lamp, the entire length of it melted into a pool of simmering, molten metal.

"There!" said the demon, his voice brimming with pride and satisfaction. "That's perfect, right?"

The woman gaped, horrorstruck; the monkeys were now little more than cinders, but they seemed unconcerned by this fact. "What—what are you?"

"I'm Batman!" said the demon. This was clearly a lie, but he said it anyway to see what would happen.

The woman's response was disappointing: she gawked a little more, but looked more confused than terrified or amazed.

"Never mind," the demon sighed. "Look, the monkeys want to play. Go have some fun, okay?" He gave the woman a small shove toward the combusted monkeys, who tackled her with delight.

What had it been? What _was_ that thing, that dire task he had been charged with? The demon wracked his brain, trying to block out the jovial cacophony as the woman and the monkeys frolicked together.

It wasn't to destroy buildings, he knew that. Destroy something else, perhaps?

Ducks? He hoped that was it. He _loathed_ ducks. Ignorant, festering ducks, always swimming around in their little ponds. So smug with their _beaks_, and their _feathers_. Always _quacking_. He looked around, hoping to see a duck so that he could stomp on it, but there were only monkeys and a few charred pedestrians.

Well, that was fine. He could always take care of the ducks later. But for now, what was that job…?

"Boom!" he shouted again, and hurled another sphere of energy. A small bakery caught the full brunt of the assault, and four square city blocks were treated to an abrupt and unexpected rain of blackened cookies and muffins.

The demon sauntered through the city, annihilating structures at random, searching aimlessly for anything that might jog his memory. He felt like holes had been drilled in his skull, allowing information to leak out.

Who had summoned him, anyway? They had certainly done an inexpert job of it—not only did he keep forgetting his assigned task, but he had the oddest feeling that, for some reason, he wanted to find someone named Urashima and passionately violate select parts of his anatomy. This was not a desire he had experienced previously, nor was he particularly pleased about experiencing it now, but there you had it.

Sighing, the demon blasted an office building out of his way, picked through the wreckage until he located the remains of a leather chair, and sat down in the smoking ruin.

What he needed, he decided firmly, was a plan. Something easy, something he could stick to. After a few minutes of determined pondering, he came up with this list:

First: Try to find the person who had summoned him, and get the wayward task down in writing. That way he couldn't keep forgetting it.

Second: Kill any ducks he happened to see along the way. Really give the little wankers something to quack about.

Third: Scrounge up a Philly cheese steak. There had to be a decent sandwich shop somewhere in the city, and all the activity was making him downright famished.

Fourth: Eat the Philly cheese steak.

Fifth: Blow up the sandwich shop, but only after leaving a nice tip for the waitress.

Sixth: He was none too thrilled about this, but there was nothing else for it—find this Urashima person and make unrelenting, animalistic love to every orifice on his body. The demon had his own suspicions about the driving force behind this newfound desire, but there was little time to be concerned about it. He had a job to do, and before he could do it, he first had to find out what it was.

With renewed energy and vigor he set out through the city once more, the pack of flaming monkeys quite literally hot on his heels. He picked a direction at random, and began cutting a swath through Tokyo that lead—though the demon himself was unaware of this—in the direction of a small hot spring community called Hinata.

On the way, he was delighted to discover a group of exceptionally haughty ducks.


	16. A Rotten Reaction

**Tales of the Rotten**

A Love Hina Fanfic by Christopher Magician

Here, in a quiet town called Hinata, was a remarkable place.

It was unobtrusive in design. The architecture managed to somehow retain classical sensibilities while simultaneously being slightly revolutionary. It was a place where people came to learn and grow, to overcome obstacles from their past and strive for a luminous new future, full of hope for a fresh tomorrow and a life of infinite possibility.

It was also a place that had recently had its roof blown off. This slightly dampened the hope for a fresh tomorrow, and considerably dimmed the luminosity of the future.

"It could be worse," Shinobu said. She was trying to keep a stiff upper lip, but this as proving to be a difficult task, since her upper lip insisted upon trembling piteously every few seconds. "I mean…it isn't the _whole_ house."

"Nope," agreed Su, sifting through the destruction. "Just the attic and most of your room. Could be a _lot_ worse."

This had the opposite effect of Su's intention, and reduced Shinobu to tears. Su waffled over whether or not this would be a good time to point out that the other residents of Hinata House, conditioned by years of dependence, would most likely expect Shinobu to clean up the mess.

"I just wish I knew what happened," Shinobu sniffed, wiping her eyes. "How does a house just explode?"

"Might not have exploded," Su said, examining an overturned table. "See? None of the normal signs of explosions. Probably not a gas leak, and doesn't look like it was caused by any homemade explosive agents. If it had been me, I would have just used good old nitroglycerin. It's easy to make," she added, noticing Shinobu's disbelieving stare. "Orange juice concentrate, gasoline, sawdust. Piece of cake."

"What could have caused it, then?" Shinobu questioned. She had a method for handling Su when she started talking about weapons and explosives, which was to enthusiastically ignore it. Thus far, it had preserved her sanity and the comfortable delusion that Su was not, in fact, utterly insane and potentially hazardous to be around.

"Dunno," Su murmured. She walked around the length of the attic, picked things up and scratched them, then set them down again. "Looks like magic, maybe."

"M-magic?" Shinobu repeated haltingly. "You're joking, right?"

"Nope," said Su. "Only thing that makes sense. There's smoke, and stuff's charred, but not like it was on fire. More like it got hit by one big wave of heat, and got seared and blasted apart. Only magic does that."

"How do you know stuff like that?" Shinobu asked, managing to be skeptical despite her shaky nerves.

"Made a few magic bombs, here and there," Su said happily. "Not as hard as you might think, either." Failing to notice Shinobu's expression of mingled worry and horror, she continued to sift through the debris. "But you know…there's one thing that bothers me. Magic bombs tend to leave a signature type of destruction, and there isn't of it around here."

"Signature destruction?" Shinobu followed Su over the scorched carpeting, turning the ominous phrase over in her mind. "What kind of a signature?"

"Sort of like…" Su murmured, and then stopped suddenly. Her arm flew up, and she pointed eagerly at the spot where a closet had once been, and a smoking pit now stood in the wall. "…That!"

A few inches above the floor was a wide, perfectly spherical, entirely black object. Or, Shinobu thought, squinting at it, maybe it was not a perfect sphere—depending on how well she was able to get her eyes to focus, it looked alternately flat, and then three-dimensional. It also seemed to change sizes, being several feet wide if she looked at it straight on, and barely an inch if she turned her head.

"Yeah, that's a _good_ one," Su was enthusing, walking around the object in admiration, as if it were a gold-plated stick of dynamite.

"What is it?" Shinobu wondered, and unlike Su, she kept her distance.

"Tough to say," Su answered reflectively. "But like I told you, they show up after a magic explosion. Some people call 'em rips in space-time, but most just call 'em plot holes."

"_Plot_ holes?" Shinobu repeated, now wondering if Su had taken that last little step forward, and gone completely insane. "Like, in a story?"

"Right," Su said, nodding amicably. "But you gotta be careful. Depending on the kind of explosion that caused it, they can act differently." She glanced around the film of scattered wreckage, and pick up the twisted remain of a chair leg. "We should see what this one does."

"Wait, Su, are you sure that's a good—" Shinobu began, but Su had already leaned forward, jabbed the stick at the black sphere, and then leapt back.

Both girls waited breathlessly. There was a faint, low-pitched rumbling from the plot hole, like the growling of a hungry person's stomach.

With a loud, resonant noise that, if written out, would have been '_Sploptch!_', the sphere trembled momentarily, then spat out a small, fluffy, stuffed elephant. It was pink, and looked almost unbearably cuddly.

"Oh!" Shinobu cried and, without a second thought, snatched the elephant up and hugged it tightly. "It's so cute!"

"Well _that_ was a new one," said Su, who was gawking at the plot hole in flat astonishment. She jabbed it with the stick again, and after another 'sploptch', it ejected a trio of stuffed kiwis colored green, blue, and purple.

"Oh!" Shinobu said again, and scooped the newcomers into her arms along with the elephant. "Oh, they're _adorable_! Keep doing that, Su!"

Su looked at the plot hole for a few moments, her expression vaguely disappointed; she looked as if she had been hoping for something more flammable. Then, after watching Shinobu's enthusiastic squealing, she shrugged and grinned. "Oh well, when in Rome."

Nothing much got accomplished for a while after that, except for the inexplicable birth of enough tiny stuffed animals to fill a toy store. Only when Shinobu was up to her waist in multicolored egrets, badgers, walruses, ocelots, and an endearingly—if inexplicably—charming rhinoceros beetle, did she admit that she might have enough of them.

"I can't help it, they're just so sweet!" she enthused, squeezing two armloads of animals simultaneously. "I don't want to put them down!"

"You don't think they might explode?" Su asked, with ill-disguised hopefulness. She picked up an orange marmoset and lobbed it lightly across the room; it landed with a soft thump, but completely failed to ignite. "Darn."

"Not _everything_ has to explode, Su," Shinobu chided, submerging herself to the neck in plush creatures. "Just enjoy these the way they are! Here, take this one."

Su accepted a yellow octopus, and gazed at it blankly. She seemed unsure of how to manage things that bore no triggers or fuses. "I don't think I want it, actually," she sighed, and tossed the octopus at the plot hole.

The toy vanished into the void, and for a moment, everything was calm. Then the air itself seemed to shake, and a massive, slimy—but strangely endearing—yellow tentacle shot from the hole and seized Su around the waist.

"Well _this_ is more interesting!" she shouted gleefully, as the tentacle lifted her high off the ground, and then roughly pinned her facedown on the carpet.

Shinobu, horrorstruck, stared openmouthed as a half dozen more tentacles rocketed from the center of the plot hole. Two of them ensnared a still-laughing Su around the shoulders and ankles, while the remaining four snaked rapidly toward Shinobu.

"Hi!" Su said cheerfully, as Shinobu landed beside her a moment later, also gripped by the slick, plush protrusions. "Didn't see this coming, eh?"

"No!" Shinobu shrieked wildly. "What's going on? Stop it, Su!"

"Dunno how," Su said casually, eyeing the plot hole as another set of tentacles burst forth, bringing to total to sixteen. "Never seen this happen before. They usually just spit out fire and brimstone, or burn your eyes out of their sockets. This is all new for me."

"Then what do we—eep!" Shinobu broke off as a particularly daring tentacle inched forward and began poking under her skirt.

Su nodded wisely. "Ah," she said, bobbing her head as if a theory had just been proven. "They're _that_ kind of tentacle."

"_That_ kind? What kind? What do we—_eep_!" Shinobu halted as the tentacle, growing bolder by the second, began a friendly investigation of her bottom.

"I've seen stuff like this," Su commented, as an amorous tentacle of her own began to politely fondle her chest. "In anime, I mean."

"You have? Then what should we do?"

Su considered this, and finally suggested, "Enjoy ourselves?"

"_Su!_"

"Oh fine, you party-pooper. Just follow my lead, all right?"

As though she had been struck by a sudden spasm, Su threw her head back, arched her back, and began to moan loudly. She also began to blush furiously, though Shinobu had no clue how that was managed.

The tentacle, which had previously been preparing for an amiable excursion into the general region around Su's panties, stopped with a jolt. It hovered uncertainly while Su trembled, sweated, and groaned for all she was worth.

"Oh, god!" she shouted, and paused to shoot a quick, "Come on, you too!" toward Shinobu. "Oh, yeah! Just like that, you big, sexy tentacle monster!"

"Er—" Shinobu said awkwardly. "Y-yeah…that's what I want..."

"With _feeling_!" Su hissed, flinging herself into a remarkably convincing portrayal of an orgiastic seizure.

Shinobu received a jolt of sudden motivation from a particularly bold tentacle, and instantaneously found within herself the motivation to writhe in ecstasy. "Ooh, tentacles!' she shouted uncertainly. "I—I sure love tentacles!"

"That's the ticket!" Su encouraged, and both girls continued to twist and squirm, loudly voicing their mounting delight, and completely bewildering the tentacles.

"It's kind of fun, isn't it?" Shinobu mused, immediately following the statement with a near-shouted, "Take me, you slimy beast! Make a woman out of me!"

"Sure is!" said Su, wrapping her legs around a tentacle and nearly throttling it in her exuberance. "I could do this all night!"

That, it seemed, was enough. The girls were unceremoniously released and dumped back onto the floor, red-faced and panting from the exertion of so many falsified climaxes. The tentacles retreated hastily, leaving a few spots of slime, but no other trace of their existence. When the last one had vanished into the black sphere, the plot hole itself spiraled once, shrunk, and disappeared with a faint _pop_.

"So you learned all that from watching anime?" Shinobu asked, when she had caught her breath again. She picked up the pink elephant which, eager tentacles notwithstanding, she was still very fond of.

"Sure!" Su confirmed. "All the tentacle stuff is like that. Unsuspecting girls, big, slimy monsters. The mistake every girl in those shows makes is that she _doesn't_ want the tentacles to play around." She tapped the side of her head. "Simple reverse psychology."

"I don't know about 'simple'," said Shinobu cautiously, but it had been a successful plan, after all. How could she argue?

"We should probably go look for everyone else," Su said, getting to her feet. "That was a really weird plot hole. I'd be surprised if there aren't more of them around."

"More like that one?" Shinobu asked, unable to resist taking an armload of stuffed animals with her as they left.

"Could be. Maybe something different, though."

"More tentacles, you think?"

"Always a possibility."

There was a brief pause.

"Wanna go see if there are any more octopuses?" Su inquired, glancing at the heaps of animals.

"Yeah, we'd better," Shinobu agreed. "Just to be safe."


End file.
